


Waiting for your silent treatment to become a scream

by marauders_assemble



Series: Marvel Femslash Bingo 2020 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, F/F, POV Natasha Romanov, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28443348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_assemble/pseuds/marauders_assemble
Summary: Her whole body was buzzing with restless energy and her brain was replaying on a loop the balcony scene. The hurt in those eyes was etched behind her eyelids, appearing as soon as she closed her eyes. She needed to—do something, anything, to erase it. So she did what she usually did in those moments where her thoughts seemed to go too fast.She ran.A sequel to Somebody that I used to know, where Blackhill deal with their issues following CATWS
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Series: Marvel Femslash Bingo 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963177
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	Waiting for your silent treatment to become a scream

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Marvel Femslash Bingo, prompt was: mad
> 
> The title is from Waiting for a spaceship, by The Scorpios.
> 
> This is a sequel to Somebody that I used to know; it's probably better if you read that one first. This fic spans from a few months after CA:TWS to, like, a few weeks after AOU, but I kinda skip over the events actually covered by the movie to concentrate more over Maria and Nat's interactions. You can still understand it if you haven't seen the movie, though. (I think.) 
> 
> I felt bad after finishing Somebody that I used to know because I hate leaving things unresolved, and I wanted to explore Nat's POV, and this is the result. It's been sitting in my WIPs for the last two months because I was never really satisfied with how it came out, but I finally finished it. I'm still not sure about it, though, so any feedback would be appreciated!
> 
> tw for PTSD and mentions of past abuse

“Nat.” 

That nickname. It spoke of sweet whispers exchanged late in the night, of evenings spent cuddled into a couch, of laughs shared after busy days, of everything she was trying to forget. 

Against her will, her body stilled on the way out the door. Inside her, two parts fought ferociously. One of them desperately wanted Maria to explain, wanted to find her excuses, wanted to understand. That part longed to get back all those precious moments, that effortless complicity, that building intimacy they had shared before … everything. 

However, the other was hurt. Deeply. She was no stranger to betrayal; treason was in her job description, and that made most of her relationships fickle and filled with distrust. Suspicion was written in her DNA, and her training had ingrained it even deeper into her being. However, she had thought Maria was different. For the one person she trusted the most in the world to do that… This part of her just wanted Maria to hurt, just as much as she did. It wanted to make her suffer. That part was strong; stronger, perhaps, than what was good for her. 

“Please.” 

At the sound of Maria’s voice breaking, she almost turned around, but the plea suddenly brought to the surface everything that she had done. She couldn’t forgive that; not now, maybe not ever. She forcefully tore herself from the door frame and fled. 

The noises of the party grew louder as she approached the main room. She tried to convince herself to go back: chat away with the rich and famous, engage with a few government officials, catch up with her fellow Avengers, keep up a good front. Show Maria (and herself) that she didn’t need her to be happy. 

However, the wave of fatigue which washed over her when she took a single look into the crowded room told her going back in was not an option. Right then, she noticed Clint in a corner of the room, chatting with a few of the others. As if he knew, he turned around and made eye contact with her. The perk of being partners for such a long time was that they could almost communicate telepathically. They shared a complicated look, then he nodded. She sighed and left quietly, at peace (as much as possible anyway). He would inevitably ask for details later, but he would also come up with a good excuse as to why she had to leave. She couldn’t deal with any more people tonight. 

Once home, Natasha threw her heels haphazardly into the apartment. She did have a floor at the Avengers Tower, but she needed to go off the grid for the night. She quickly got out of her dress and into more comfortable attire. She considered watching TV, to take her mind off things, but she knew without trying that it would be pointless. Her whole body was buzzing with restless energy and her brain was replaying on a loop the balcony scene. The hurt in those eyes was etched behind her eyelids, appearing as soon as she closed her eyes. She needed to—do something, anything, to erase it. So she did what she usually did in those moments where her thoughts seemed to go too fast. 

She ran. 

* * *

The sun was peeking over the horizon when she finally stumbled back into her place. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and her feet ached from pounding on the concrete for hours on end. Her limbs were as heavy as lead, and all she wanted to do was collapse on her bed and sleep. 

She headed to the bathroom and quickly stripped out of her sweat-soaked attire. Once in the shower, she let the hot water drain all the tension from her tired muscles. Alas, as her body relaxed slowly, her mind seemed to come alive once again, and with it, the painful memories she had been fleeing from. 

Natasha sighed and put on her clothes for the day, renouncing rest, as had become common in the last few months. Since joining SHIELD, she had been able to sleep a little better at night. She knew she could never forget everything she had done (nor, to a certain point, did she really want to), but with SHIELD, it felt like she was beginning to finally atone for her sins. Now, however… Those days were long gone, and along with it the relative peace of mind it brought her. 

A knock echoed in the empty apartment, putting a halt to her brooding. Immediately, all her senses flared to life; only a handful of people knew about this place, and she wasn’t expecting anyone. Rationally, she recognized that a foe wouldn’t knock, but her training told her to be careful nevertheless. (And yes, maybe the lack of sleep did make her a little paranoid, but whatever.) 

She grabbed her gun on the way to the door, moving without needing to think about it with the stealth of a feline. Taking care not to make a sound, the spy peeked through the peephole and let her shoulders sag in relief. Of course it was Clint; who else would it be? She firmly ignored the small part of her which was disappointed that it wasn’t a certain somebody and opened the door, putting the gun back in its place. 

“Hey.” 

Barton walked past her and made a beeline for the couch, ending up sprawled on it. “So, wanna tell me what happened last night?” 

Natasha busied herself with making coffee, keeping her back to her partner. He DID look like he needed a cup, and if she was to spend the day without sleep, she’d need one too. “Nothing happened; I was tired, that’s all.” 

“Nuh-uh. You were fine right before you left—Still don’t know where you went, by the way—and then you just … didn’t come back. What the fuck, Natasha? The party was killing me and, thanks to you, I had to stay for another hour to explain why you disappeared. I thought you were supposed to be the one who’s good at social things,” he whined. 

When she didn’t answer, he raised his head and took a good look at her, for the first time since his arrival. Resisting the urge to look away, she held his gaze, saw him take in the bags under her eyes, the weariness in her movements, her haunted gaze. They had both seen each other in all kinds of situations, and she had lost pretty much any remaining sense of embarrassment around him after Budapest. However, she didn’t particularly appreciate being scrutinized like that. 

Clint sat up straighter, putting his whole focus on her. “Tasha, what’s wrong?” Concern tinted his voice; it was not a look he wore often, preferring to act careless and goofy, and she was suddenly overcome by the urge to run away, far from his worried eyes. She ignored it. 

“I told you, it’s nothing,” she stated firmly, throwing him her best Widow glare; it had sent many trained assassins scurrying away, shaking in their boots, but sadly, over the years, her friend had become impervious to it. 

“Don’t bullshit me; you look like you haven’t slept in weeks, and I know you well enough to know when you’re all caught up in your own head.” As she looked away, he continued. “C’mon, Tasha; just talk to me.” 

Sighing, the redhead walked over to the archer, handing him a steaming cup, which he accepted with a simple “You’re amazing,” although was he talking to her or to the coffee, she couldn’t say. Taking a sip of her own beverage, she tried to figure out the best way to explain the situation. Her friend stayed silent, for which she was grateful; she needed a little time to articulate her feelings, and he knew that. 

It was a routine they had gotten into during the months following her defection. He would push until she admitted something bothered her, and then wait for her to get everything off her chest. She had always felt like she could talk to him about things because he didn’t treat her as the infamous Black Widow, world-renowned assassin turned Avenger; he had always talked to her like he would talk to any other person. It was a refreshing change from the rest of the world; few were the people for whom she was just Natasha. (She tried very hard not to think about one of those people.) 

Bluntly, coldly, she dove in headfirst. “I saw Hill last night. That’s where I went.” 

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” said Barton, his eyes widening slightly. “How…?” 

She started pacing, sensing the archer’s eyes following her movements. “After being mostly on my own over the last few months, seeing everybody at once was getting a little too much, so I went to get some air, but of course I had to pick the one balcony where she was already.” It made sense, looking back: the place was isolated from the rest of the party while still being a great vantage point, not to mention it had a spectacular view of the city. It was exactly the type of place they both loved. “I’m pretty sure she was as surprised to see me as I was to see her.” She hadn’t looked like she was expecting company: her ragged breathing, her shaky hands, her red eyes… Natasha couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her, all the while trying her best not to. “Next thing I knew, she started apologizing and begging me to listen to her. But how can she think I’m gonna forgive her?! What does she think will happen, that I’m just gonna magically forget everything and we’ll be besties once again?!” 

She deflated quickly and dropped down on the couch, rubbing at her eyes. “I don’t know. I just—” She heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what to do, how or even if I should move past this, I just know that seeing her hurts like a bitch.” 

Her friend stayed silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry, Tasha.” A beat. “Do you … maybe wanna come over at the farm for a few days? Laura and the kids would love to see you, and you’d be sure not to run into her.” 

She smiled slightly. “As much as I would love that, I think I’ve been away long enough; it’s time for me to go back into the real world,” she sighed. “Plus, Steve would worry, and Tony would ask a thousand questions, and neither you nor me need them to find about the farm.” 

“I really have no idea what you should do, but I could put rotten fish on the vents above Hill’s office at SI?” He asked tentatively. 

Against her will, a dry chuckle escaped her lips. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.” 

“Or, y’know, I have, like, the ten first seasons of Hell’s Kitchen, we could just stay in here all day and order some takeout.” 

She smiled slightly. “Sounds good.” At that moment, she was grateful for her partner: He was doing his best to take care of her, in his own, very Barton-y way. 

The redhead pulled her knees to her chest and settled comfortably on the couch as Clint struggled to install the program on the TV. She quipped about having to call Stark, and he seemed relieved to see her gradually climbing out of the hole she’d seemed buried in earlier. 

She didn’t voice the thought running through her head as she watched Gordon Ramsay yell at some poor young chefs: that even though seeing Maria hurt like hell, being away from her, well… That was about a thousand times worse. 

* * *

When she signed up (more accurately, when she was enrolled more or less willingly) in the Avengers Initiative, she had pictured a lot of taking down geniuses with a little too much ambition, dismantling Hydra branches, heck, even fighting aliens; her vision didn’t involve a whole lot of socializing. 

Yet, here she was, once again attending a big fancy party, courtesy of one Tony Stark. (She would have to think of a special way to “reward” him for that one.) Still, it gave her an opportunity to see her fellow Avengers in a context other than a fight; they were getting better at teamwork these days, and she was learning to trust them and even getting to actually enjoy their company. Plus, she had to hand it to Tony (probably Pepper, actually), the guests were not that bad; no nosy reporters, and most of them seemed like decent people. 

Out the corner of her eye, she noticed Banner not-so-subtly stealing glances at her from the bar. As soon as she caught his eye, he looked away, blushing slightly. It wasn’t the first time something like this happened; he obviously had a crush on her and, well, she didn’t exactly do anything to discourage it. 

She liked Bruce. He was a good guy, smart and kind. She could be happy with him. (Not as happy as she could be, whispered a voice in her head, but she ignored it.) Steve had been trying to push them to be together for a while, and she couldn’t think of a reason why not to. She didn’t love him; but then, she had long ago given up on love. (There was one person she had actually thought she could love, and that person had broken her heart.) 

Catching sight of Maria (she looked gorgeous in that dress) chatting with Rhodey and Thor, she quickly made her decision. Ignoring the pang of … something (guilt? regret?) … in her chest, she headed over to the bar, swaying her hips a little more than usual. Banner was steady, dependable (except for the times when he turned into a big green rage monster, that is); she could count on him, and right now? That was enough. (It had to be.) 

* * *

Thud. 

_Madame B’s voice rang through the air. “Again!” Around her were 26 other ballerinas dancing in perfect unison. Except… No, that wasn’t right. Around her were 26 other assassins in the making, moving with a deadly grace and learning to kill._

Thud. 

_The world seemed to grow smaller by the second as she stared at it from the floating city. “There are worse ways to go,” she told Steve. And she really meant it. She had come so close to death so many times, but every time, she escaped. Maybe, if she went this way, she could at least wipe a little more red from her ledger._

Thud. Thud. 

_Natalia entered the training room to see a slender figure tied to a chair. An agent pulled off the bag from its head, revealing Renata’s bloodied and battered face. She had been raised with that girl, had trained with her, had shared stolen food with her. On a sign from Madame, she without hesitation cocked her gun and pulled the trigger, effectively killing her._

Thud-thud-thud. 

_She stared at Banner as he offered her to run away, and realized that everything she thought she had with him was an illusion. He didn’t know her; not really. He knew the persona she had created, without consciously recognizing it, to seduce him. He might have been what she thought she needed, but he wasn’t anymore. Right now, she needed the Hulk, so she did what she had to do._

Thud. _She hurtled towards the quinjet with the cradle, only to be snatched away at the last second by Ultron._ Thud. _She was calming the Hulk when bullets started raining down on them._ Thud. _Stark sentinels burst through the walls, and immediately, she thought: “Maria.”_ Thud-thud-thud-thud-THUD. 

She finished her attack with a flurry of punches and kicks and stood there, panting slightly. Like most nights these days, she found herself in the gym, enjoying the silence and having the space to herself. She hadn’t had this much trouble sleeping since her first year at SHIELD. The whole thing with Ultron had messed with her head, more than she cared to admit to anyone else. (Even, possibly, herself.) 

Between her nightly workout sessions and the training of the new recruits, she spent most of her time in the gym; she hadn’t really gotten the chance to explore the new compound. (It had nothing to do with the fact that a certain someone also lived on the premises, and had therefore become much more difficult to avoid.) She slowly began unwrapping her hands, deciding a good run would do her some good. 

Turning towards the door, she froze. The exact person she had been avoiding for days was staring at her from the doorway. For a few moments, they both just stood there, neither knowing how to react. Hill was the first to regain her composure. Clearing her throat, she made an attempt at defusing the tension. “And I thought the only person crazy enough to come here in the middle of the night was me.” That was a lie, and they both knew it: how often had they sparred until the small hours of the morning to chase away their respective ghosts? Nevertheless, it snapped Natasha out of her daze. 

Averting her gaze, she attempted to get out the door, sidestepping Maria in doing so. “Well, don’t let me stop you,” she muttered. Keen on escaping as fast as she could, she was almost out the door when she felt a warm hand grasping at her wrist. Automatically, she got out of the hold, barely refraining from putting the Commander in an armlock, before reminding herself at the last second that it wouldn’t do any good. She was left glaring at the woman before her, arm still outstretched. 

“Nat, wait.” 

The redhead hardened her eyes. “You have exactly ten seconds before I walk out that door,” she replied coldly. Her distant demeanour hid a turmoil of emotions bubbling under the surface, threatening to spill over. 

Never let it be said that Maria Hill didn’t work well under pressure. “Okay. Look, I know I hurt you, and I’m more sorry than you can imagine. I never planned for it to happen, for any of it, and I want to make it up to you. You have every right to walk out that door right now, but I’d like it if we could… I don’t know… Try and start again?” 

Suddenly, all the hurt, the sadness, the anger, everything she had been choking back for so long came bubbling back up until she couldn’t hold it in anymore. So, like any wounded beast would do, she lashed out. “Start again? You think it’s that easy? Just say sorry and suddenly we’re friends again?!” She looked daggers at the woman in front of her. She progressively started getting louder and louder, until she was yelling. “You lied to me! You made me think he was dead! Do you have … any idea how that felt? To find out that the people you trusted lied to you on a matter of life and death? You let me think I was all alone, and you disappeared when I needed you the most! I trusted you!” Suddenly, it seemed all the fight left her at once. She hugged her middle and looked away, no longer able to stand the view of the person who had so thoroughly hurt her. Voice breaking, she added: “I thought you trusted me too.” 

From the corner of her eye, she could make out Maria barely refraining from reaching out to her. After a moment’s hesitation, she spoke up. “I did—I _do_ trust you,” she protested vehemently. “Probably more than anyone else in the world.”

Natasha let out a bitter laugh. “Not enough to tell me that the only father figure I’ve ever had wasn’t dead, or that the organization I served for so long was rotten to the core, apparently.” 

“I wanted to tell you. So much. I argued with Fury about it for hours, but…” Frustrated, the Deputy ran a hand through her hair. “I mean, he’d just discovered his whole agency was infiltrated with an evil organization. He’s already paranoid and secretive, so it just comforted him in his defiance, and if I’m honest, I began to think he was right.” 

“I get it, I really do, more than you think. And I get that Nick might pull something like this in those circumstances. But you?” Natasha turned back to the other woman, eyes pleading to understand. “I thought you knew me better than that. You were … probably the one person who knew me best. If you don’t trust me, then … who will?” And there they were. It was the one thing that had been eating away at her ever since the fall of SHIELD. She’d thought she was actually doing well: she was starting to open up, and it felt like the people closest to her had started getting over the whole Black Widow, spy, assassin thing. The events after Fury’s “death” and resuscitation had just brought everything rushing back, prompting the reflection: Would she ever be more than just the Black Widow? 

In front of her, Maria’s blue eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Oh, Nat,” she whispered. “I…” At a loss for words, she tentatively reached out, but Natasha took a step back, hardening her eyes. 

“Don’t. Just … don’t.” She mounted her walls back up, half regretting to have let them down in the first place. She easily slipped into her Black Widow persona; somehow, it was better not to have to be Natasha for a minute. (Some part of her knew she’d have to deal with those feelings eventually; but now, with Maria looking at her with remorse in her eyes, she couldn’t; she wouldn’t.) Coldly, she added: “I’m gonna go now. Good night, Hill.” 

On those words, she left, still feeling the burn of Maria’s piercing blue eyes on her back well after she was out of sight. 

* * *

Natasha shot up in her bed, gasping for air. She looked around wildly, struggling to get her bearings. Her brain was grappling to reconcile the dark room surrounding her with the interrogation chamber it seemed she was in barely a few seconds ago. 

Her alarm lessened slightly when she recognized the walls of her quarters at the Avengers compound, yet she couldn’t bring herself to relax. Not when Maria’s screams still echoed in her ears. Not when she could still see Maria’s blood staining her hands. 

Running a shaky hand through her hair, she took a moment to gather her strength before wearily sitting on the edge of her bed. Closing her eyes, she tried to will away the images flashing before her eyes. The knife in her hand, cutting through Maria’s skin. Madame watching raptly. The light in Maria’s eyes slowly dimming. 

She exhaled slowly, trying to control her breathing, and, knowing she wouldn’t go back to sleep that night, got up to begin her day. However, she soon found that no matter what she did, she just couldn’t keep her thoughts from running back to her dream. She was no stranger to those dreams; she had been getting them—well, for as long as she could remember. This time though—this time it was different. It had just felt so—real, and she couldn’t stop her heart trying to beat out of her chest, just like she couldn’t silence the thought nagging at the back of her head: _What if it was real?_

The rational part of her mind knew she was being ridiculous. Nevertheless, her feet had carried her halfway through the compound before she even registered what she was doing and soon enough, she was staring at Maria’s door. She couldn’t knock on her door in the middle of the night, that was insane, especially considering they hadn’t talked since that night in the gym, a few weeks ago. Yet, she had to make sure she was okay. Without thinking further about it, she knocked. 

Just as her panic started spiking again, the door finally opened. “This better be impor—Natasha?” Relief flooded Natasha as a bleary-eyed Maria appeared in the doorway, face scrunched up in confusion. Barely registering Maria’s increasingly worried questions, she kept staring at the other woman, scanning her everywhere for any trace of injuries. “Nat, you’re shaking! Come on, come in, you can’t just stay there in the hallway.” 

Natasha let herself be guided inside Maria’s quarters, eyes never once leaving the other woman’s face, one single thought running through her head: _She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay._

When she felt Maria’s hand hesitantly come rest on her shoulder, everything suddenly hit her head on: the fall of SHIELD, the loneliness of the past few months, Ultron and everything that came with it, the fight, the dream… Unable to stand it any longer, she surged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Maria’s waist. “Whoa,” said Maria, almost toppling over from the force of the unexpected embrace. “Okay.” Natasha felt her arms wrap around her. Maria exhaled slowly and softly whispered, almost for herself: “Okay.” 

The redhead hid her face in the crook of Maria’s neck. Still trembling slightly, she screwed her eyes shut, trying to force back the tears threatening to spill over. At the sound of Maria’s voice whispering reassurances in her ear, the dam broke. She cried silently into Maria’s chest, drawing strength from the soothing voice in her ear, grounding her. The two women stayed intertwined for a long time, until the sobs wracking the assassin’s body slowed down to a stop. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” she mumbled into Maria’s collarbone. “I _can’t_ lose you.” She felt the other woman’s hold on her tighten infinitesimally. 

“You won’t, Nat.” Maria’s voice was thick with emotion. “I promise,” she added, so low that Natasha would have missed it had she not been pressed against the other woman. She only gripped her tighter, not willing to let go. 

That dream, as horrific as it had been, had made one thing clear for Natasha: she couldn’t live without Maria at her side. All their issues wouldn’t magically go away, they both knew that. There would be screams, fights, and probably a few tears. There was trust to be rebuilt, and a relationship to repair. However, there would be time for all of that later. 

Right then, with Maria’s arms wrapped protectively around her, Natasha felt better than she had felt in a long time. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! You can come find me on Tumblr, I'm agentmaraudersassemble :)


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